Page 26 of Off-Limits

Perfect.

Peering up from my spot on the floor, I find her alreadylooking down at me, gnawing on her lip and holding my shirt down again. She looks nervous, worried even.

“You painted this?” I say, breaking the silence.

She nods.

“Words, Dottie.”

She flushes, probably remembering the many times I’d said that to her growing up.

I am so going to hell.

“Yeah, yeah, I did. Arrie asked me to spruce the place up. Those were her words not mine,” she answers, narrowing her eyes.

“Woah, woah, tiger. I wasn’t going to say anything.”

That gets a small smile.

We stare at each other for a few seconds before I clear my throat and stand up, fixing the canvas back in its easel. Which I do for way too long than necessary, but I need to keep my hands busy.

“Arrie didn’t tell me you were coming home. I can stay at Arrie’s or my parents’.”

“Like fuck you will,” I growl, the fury bubbles beneath my flesh at the mention of her parents.

“Excuse me?”

I run a hand down my face.

“I mean, you don’t have to. It’s fine. You have Arrie’s room, I have mine, we both work, so we will barely see each other. It will be no problem,” I insist, covering up my outburst with a lie.

“Are - are you sure?”

No.

Yes.

No.

Fuck.

“Positive. How about you get some sleep, and I’ll clean this up?”

“No, no. It’s my mess. I’ll fix it.”

“Dorothy. Bed. Now,” I demand.

She goes quiet, but I need her out of this space so I can think straight because all I can smell isher.See her, and it is fucking with my composure.

I keep my back to her, feeling the muscles coil tightly underneath my leather jacket, and when I hear her bare feet pad along the timber floorboards, I release a staggered breath.

When I hear the door click shut, I kick my ass into gear so I can clean this mess and get to bed. I think we both know I won’t be sleeping for a while, and I’m not sure how I feel about that.

Two hours, three whiskeys, a shower and a wank later, I’m lying in bed looking at the dark ceiling feeling disgusted with myself. How the hell am I ever going to look at her the same again?

I need a distraction. I reach for my phone and open up my messages to find she had actually replied.

Was the devil tempted?